


The Language We Speak

by Minuialeth75



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Scent Marking, Scenting, UST (doesn't last because kissing happens), Underage Kissing, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuialeth75/pseuds/Minuialeth75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>03x12 Lunar Ellipse Missing Scene.<br/>Stiles learns that Derek is going to leave Beacon Hills. He goes to the loft to see him. For reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language We Speak

**Author's Note:**

> Two things I didn't know when I started to write this fic and chose not to include later:  
> The darkness around Stiles' heart. I wanted something mainly fluffy. Stiles and Derek need some fluff.  
> I know now that Derek is leaving Beacon Hills on a personal mission/quest.

There was no doorbell. How had he never noticed that there wasn't one?! Though it figured that Derek Sourwolf Hale didn't have a bell but would set up a special alarm for intruders.  
As if standing here wasn't awkward already.  
Was he supposed to bang on the rusty metal door until his fist bled? Or should he wait here until some werewolfy ears picked up on his presence? Should he display his off key talent by singing something really annoying until someone opened? What was he doing here anyway?  
Stiles nervously raked his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. There had been a lot of hair-raking in the past hour.

It was just… They had been having their lunch break – he, Scott, Lydia, Allison and Isaac – when Scott had dropped the bomb.  
"Derek asked me to keep an eye on his loft from time to time. He wants to be sure it doesn't get squatted when he and Cora are gone."  
He hadn't had the time to say anything – to _feel_ anything – before Allison had asked "They're moving?"  
Isaac had then said "Yeah, they're leaving Beacon Hills, trying to have a fresh start elsewhere."  
It had felt like his insides were torn inside out. Why Scott and Isaac had known but not _him_? Oh, of course: Stiles = no fangs, no claws = not a werewolf. It had stung.  
His face must have done a _thing_ because Lydia had looked at him funny, and said in that mysterious and all-knowing tone: "You're going to say goodbye, aren't you?"  
What had he been supposed to answer? " _I don't want Derek to leave, like ever_ "?  
Because, as part of his world had started crashing down around him with Scott's news, he had realized that the little suspense of _Could Derek See Me That Way_? would never have an outcome. Because Derek would be _gone_. He couldn't tell any of this to Lydia, to anyone, barely to himself, so he had said " _Sure, why not?_ "

Which led him here, trying to stare a hole through Derek's door.  
Fed up with his irresolution, Stiles knocked once, with his open palm. No need breaching the skin of his knuckles on that rust and catching tetanus.  
The door opened sooner than he expected and… oh.

"Cora! Er, fancy meeting you here. Helloooo," spewed out of his mouth.

Cora. Of course. Why had he thought that Derek would be the one to let him in? Not that he had forgotten about Cora living here but, yeah, not the Hale he had hoped for. It could have been Peter though, so it could have been worse.

"Stiles." She was staring at him. And not letting him in.

"Soooo, I just thought I'd check on you, see how you were doing after your little brush with death. You know, since I saved you and all."

She looked him up and down, with that typical _Hale_ face. Then she stepped aside to let him in.  
"He's upstairs," she said, looking pointedly at him.

"Ah, er, okay. Alright. So I'll just," he indicated the spiral staircase, trying to ignore her smirk. He didn't see what was so funny.

Then he realized as he was ascending the steps that Derek had most probably heard his incoherent babbling to Cora. Just… wonderful. Perfect.

 

He had pictured Derek putting his stuff away in boxes but when he saw him lounging on his bed with a book instead, he realized that it had been a bit stupid on his part. Derek had never seemed to have many belongings. It's like he had never really settled in the loft. It had been the same with the Hale house but since it was basically a ruin, it hadn't been this obvious.  
Derek would only have to pack a bag and then he would be on his way.  
Stiles' insides twisted.

Derek finished his page, using an unidentified piece of paper as a bookmark, before getting up and… advancing on him.  
Stiles knew it was only an impression provided by his warped mind, but still, it was a big effort not to step back. It's not that Derek really scared him now. He wished Derek could smell only _fear_ on him if he got too close. But he doubted his virgin teenager's hormones smelt anything like fear. He couldn't help it. Derek was wearing tight blue jeans, a tight tee-shirt, even his muscles looked tight. He had always wondered at the way Derek moved gracefully in spite of his muscular mass.  
Jesus, he totally sounded like a cheap romance novel – not that he had ever read one of those. This was getting out of control. Noticing that Derek looked good was one thing, but _staring_ at the man was not on. Shiiit, had he been gawking? Had Derek noticed?

After a long time spent distrusting Derek, he had started to realize that the man was very attractive but _feelings_ hadn't been involved yet.  
It was Jennifer's fault. If he hadn't found Derek lying unconscious in the elevator, looking as still as death, he wouldn't have realized… Though his reaction to seeing Derek _crying_ over Boyd's body should have been a clue.  
He had always seemed strong and unfazed, and suddenly he had looked lost and broken and so young. Stiles had realized that behind the tough exterior, Derek was as lost as they all were. He too, was struggling.  
He had become aware that Derek had kinda grown up on him over the months he knew him. He had went from not trusting him at all and thinking he was douchey, to grudgingly recognize that though he sucked as an Alpha because he had zero people skills, he still took care of his pack, tried to protect them as best as he could, putting his life on the line. Then he had realized that this protective streak was extended to Scott and his mismatched pack, including himself. Between slamming him into steering wheels and walls, Derek had protected him and saved him several times, without being asked to do so by Scott. He had realized over time that he was part of the _handful_ of people Derek trusted and somehow, it had become precious to him.  
Then he had seen that Derek actually _cared_ and even if he sometimes fucked up, his heart was in the right place. Despite what everything life had thrown his way, Derek was a good man.  
Stiles hadn't been able to stop noticing all these things. It had snowballed from there, into something Stiles would have thought he was still too young to feel.

"How's your father doing?" Derek asked, arms crossed over his chest.  
He could have been asking if his father had physically recovered from his kidnapping by a Dark Druid. But by the way Derek was staring inquisitively at _him_ , Stiles guessed he wanted to know how his father was adjusting to knowing the whole truth, and if there were new difficulties for _him_.  
Derek was a man of – very – few words, and Stiles had found out over time that he had developed a Derek Translator. He had become rather well versed in eyebrows shifts, tightening of lips and jaw, shoulders moves, density and length of silences, frequency of sighs and intensity of eye rolls.  
Derek said a lot when you knew how to listen. And maybe he enjoyed seeing the look of surprise on Derek's face each time he realized that Stiles had understood what he meant without many words. He _got_ Derek. And often, he would spy Derek's mouth twitching at some obscure joke he'd made.  
And he was going to leave. 

"He's fine, really. He had a crash course in weird stuff by Scott's mum while they were trapped in the Nemeton. He's digging up old unsolved cases to see if they could be explained using the supernatural angle. I haven't seen him so motivated, so confident, in a long time." 

Derek threw him _that_ look. Shit. He had been a bit too enthusiastic. Apparently Derek had a Stiles Translator.  
"You're listening to my heartbeat, aren't you?"  
"Stiles, I don't need to. Your whole person is like an open book."  
" _Yours too_ ," Stiles almost said. "Er, let's say that before he was suspicious because he could feel I was lying a lot, and now that he knows about the things that go bump in the night, he's a bit… overprotective."  
"How?"  
"It's becoming extra difficult to sneak out of the house once it's dark when he's here. He manages to keep tabs on me even when he's not here. I think he's gonna lock me up at the next full moon! He seems to think I'm in permanent danger."  
"You are."  
"I'm not! I saved him. I saved them!"  
"You _died_ , Stiles."  
"It was like, seconds! And he doesn't know about this. And he'll never know. We decided with Scott and Allison that they'll never know. And if my father knows something, I swear I'll trail your little werewolf ass to wherever you're going and I…"  
"I won't tell anything," Derek said with an eye roll, before staring at him. "Just be careful, okay? Not your usual version of 'careful'. You're human…"  
"How many times I have saved your ass already?" Stiles cut, trying to ignore the crazy somersaults his insides were doing. Derek looked like he _really_ cared, and he didn't know how to handle this.  
"I know that, and don't think I'm not grateful, but it's been fluke. One day your luck is going to run out, Stiles."  
"I think my luck ran out a while ago." Almost nine years ago.  
And whoa, he really hadn't meant to put that closed off look on Derek's face, the one that meant he knew he had fucked up, and didn't know how to fix it.  
Stiles always got touchy when he was told to be careful. He was the only human left in the band – you couldn't count Allison, she was a force of nature – and he wanted to help. He needed to help. He couldn't stay in the sidelines while the others risked their lives, he was sure he'd go crazy. Well, crazier. 

"How are you?" he asked. Because maybe it was one of the reasons he was here. Derek didn’t look any different, didn’t seem different, but Stiles knew he had given up his Alpha status to save Cora. Was he weaker like Peter now? 

Derek’s face went carefully blank, like each time he didn’t know how to react to something. His eyes, though, were speaking for him. He was… surprised? Why would he be surprised by someone asking how he was? 

"Cora’s fine. She’s completely healed."  
Derek was playing difficult, fiiiine.  
"I’m glad she’s out of danger, since you know, I saved her too, but it’s not what I asked."  
There was a pause where Derek tried to launch a staring contest and that was unfair because Stiles was sure to lose. He'd bet Derek was doing this on purpose. "How do _you_ feel?" 

Derek inhaled deeply. He uncrossed his arms and put his hands in his pockets. Jesus, this was like extracting brain matter through someone’s nose. And ew, where did that awful analogy come from? Ugh. 

"Why do you want to know?"  
" _Because I care, idiot!_ " was at the tip of Stiles’ tongue. "Because I’m a bit worried," was what came out, and Stiles wondered if it was a better wording.  
"Why?"  
"Because you could have _died_ doing this."  
"Peter was here."  
"Oh, this makes all the difference! Uncle Peter was here."  
"He gave me a way to save Cora. She was _dying_."  
"Excuse me but somehow, this doesn't make him any less creepy and shady. I know he's the only family you have left with Cora but it's not like he's entirely trust worthy."  
"You're right, he's _one_ of the _two_ family members I have left," Derek said in a tone meaning that the discussion about Peter had reached a dead end. It wasn't the first time Stiles tried to open Derek's eyes about Peter. Derek wasn't completely blindsided by him, but he still trusted Peter a lot more than he should have. 

"Okay. I… okay. Seriously, how are you, Derek?" He didn't know how to phrase it without saying " _now that you're no longer an Alpha_ ". Even if it had saved Cora, it had to suck for Derek, especially as Stiles suspected Peter didn't miss an occasion to remind him he had lost his Alpha status. 

Derek gazed up from the fascinating sight of his shoes and his look was a bit… raw. "I'm less powerful. But Cora is alive. And it's not like my talents as an Alpha are going to be missed." Derek's mouth twisted in a wry smile.  
Stiles held a biting comment, chewing on his lower lip. Derek's last remark had sounded like something Peter would say. 

"Are you…" he didn't know how to ask this, especially as he wasn't in Team Werewolf and he wasn't sure it wasn't a taboo or something. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.  
Derek didn't say anything but his eyebrows went up in inquisitive mode. He looked younger when he did this, and very cute. Not that Stiles would ever tell him this. Okay, time to bite the bullet. "Are you an Omega now?"  
Derek's answer was so important. Scott had explained him that Omegas were without a pack and weaker as a consequence. Apparently pack and family were different things so Cora and Peter didn't really count. Stiles hated the idea of Derek not being able to defend himself against other werewolves or worse, Alphas. Scott had also told him what had happened to the only Omega he had ever seen. Okay, he was worried sick for Derek, and he had a feeling that Derek wouldn't be happy to realize this. 

"No. I'm a Beta," came the terse answer.  
Stiles barely held a heartfelt " _Thank God_ ". He knew his relief was probably written all over his face but he couldn't bring himself to care. But, wait…  
"Does this mean… you're part of a pack?"  
Derek said nothing. His face wasn't blank this time, it was completely open. The answer came to Stiles. It was so obvious.  
"Scott."  
Derek nodded, something odd in his eyes.  
"Then why are you leaving?" Which was the question he had wanted to ask since he had entered the room. And his tone had been anything but neutral. Try _needy_.  
"Cora. She doesn't want to stay in Beacon Hills. Too many bad memories, then and now. She'll be 18 in a few months and she wants a fresh start elsewhere. There's a pack around New York that was an ally of the Hale Pack. I'm going to give her a hand until she's settled there."  
"But…"  
"The loft isn't for sale."  
"Then you're coming back" Stiles knew he couldn't have sounded more hopeful if he had tried.  
"I am. Cora is the only sibling I have left, but I've realized I can't be selfish and keep her close to me when she doesn't really want to. We care for each other, we'll always do, but we've been apart for too long."  
"You're family but you're not pack."  
Derek gave a small smile. Those were rare and always, always cherished.  
"You're human, yet you understand us very well."  
" _I understand you_ ," Stiles wanted to say, but once again, the words were stuck in his throat.  
"You've never been _really_ scared of me," Derek resumed. "You always keep pushing when the others let go."  
"Scott always…"  
"Scott's a werewolf, a True Alpha now, not a fragile human."  
"I'm not fragile!" Well, if he had been aiming for casual, he had hit heated instead.  
"Your _body_ is," and Derek gave his body a quick once over that made Stiles wish the werewolf couldn't hear his heartbeat. Maybe Derek would chalk that to the conversation, "but you're right, _you_ aren't fragile. You're strong, you're resilient. You've helped a lot of people, you've literally saved several of them, you've attacked the twins with a bat…"  
"There's a very fine line between brave and stupid and I often cross it."  
Derek laughed. He _laughed_. The sound of it was incredible. Stiles realized he had never heard Derek's laugh before. He wanted to hear that sound again. And again, and again. And be the cause of it, in whichever way. 

Then Derek's face became serious again. Dead serious. Stiles felt rooted on the spot by the intensity of Derek's stare.  
"Then don't be stupid, Stiles. I'd like you to still be here and in one piece when I come back." 

It felt like the beginning of a panic attack, except it wasn't. It was his heart slamming out of tempo, but not in fear. It was disbelief, wonder and fierce hope that sent his heartbeat – and his world – off-kilter.  
When had Derek gotten so close? Stiles was pretty sure he was standing right in his personal bubble. Not that he really minded. But now it was easier for Derek to smell his pheromones, not to mention to hear his no-doubt crazy heartbeat. 

Stiles barely glimpsed the fascinating depths of Derek's eyes, and then there were… supple lips on his, stubble, Derek's scent. With Lydia, he had stopped breathing, with Derek his brain came to a full stop. He didn't remember this ever happening before. It was… nice, to just… be.  
Then Derek's human teeth lightly grazed his throat and someone moaned and omygod the sound had come from him. His hands were in Derek's hair and on Derek's nape and on Derek's biceps and then suddenly their bodies were glued together by Derek's arms and oh, he was as excited by this as he was. 

"There's another werewolf here and she's _very_ uncomfortable right now!"  
Cora. Next time he wouldn't revive her. 

He'd have jumped back but he was still enclosed in Derek's arms. He didn't seem to have heard his sister or just didn't care about the interruption. His hands had landed on Derek's butt at some point, which could have been awkward but was somehow perfect. Derek's face was still against his neck and there was a sound that was very much like a snuffle…  
"Are you _scenting_ me?"  
"Sorry, werewolf thing," Derek whispered against his skin, then straightened.  
"Did I sound like I minded? Did I _smell_ like I minded?"  
"Ah. You're right."  
Derek's pupils almost filled his irises. He'd seen Derek's eyes electric blue, Alpha red, and their usual beautiful unique hue, but never practically black. He idly wondered how his own eyes looked.  
"How do I smell to you?" To him Derek smelt woodsy and a bit musky but he didn't have werewolf senses.  
"Pack."  
Derek had a way of saying that word, like it encompassed a lot of things.  
Derek's eyes became beta blue. He gently took Stiles' face in his hands but he didn't kiss him again like he thought he would. Derek started trailing his nose along his throat and then he… he was rubbing his face on his skin, from the hollow at the base of his neck to his jaw. It wasn't kissing but he was so on board with this. He found himself clutching Derek's nape and erasing the distance that had been created between them by Cora's interruption. A disjointed thought occurred to him.  
"That's a werewolf thing too, isn't it? Are you like, leaving your scent on me?"  
He'd never thought his voice could get this low. 

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say because Derek stiffened and put a whole foot between them. That wasn't okay.  
"Wha…"  
"I'm sorry, I got carried away. You're not eighteen yet." Derek had his trademark 'I fucked up' face.  
"I was wondering when you were going to remember this," came Cora's exasperated voice from downstairs.  
This time, Derek growled at her. 

Derek's meaning hit home. In what alternate universe could _Derek Hale_ be interested in se… He couldn't even finish the thought.  
"You mean that… you're actually attracted to _me_? You'd like… _date_ me?" 

Derek threw him _that_ look. His patented 'Why am I even talking to you' look. But there was something else in his eyes, and Stiles chose to pretend it was fondness. Exasperated fondness, granted, but still _fondness_.  
Derek made a hand gesture encompassing both of them. "What do you think just happened? Which _shouldn't_ have happened," he quickly amended, "because you're not eighteen."  
"I really wish I were."  
Was that a flirtatious tone? Did it actually come out of his mouth?! 

Derek stepped back. It was the first time he had _ever_ done this with Stiles. "I can't ask this from you. Right now you're attracted to me…" Stiles opened his mouth. "I _know_. Werewolf, remember? I can hear it, I can smell it," and Derek's nostrils flared, and he looked a bit lost for a moment and it was fucking sexy. "But once I'm gone… you can meet… people your age."  
"I've been meeting people my age. I'm meeting people my age, every day. But I'm here, right now."  
"But as long as I'm around, I'm an interference." 

Stiles suddenly understood. Derek genuinely thought that he only had some kind of stupid teenage crush on him. Dispelling that idea would be easy if it didn't mean exposing a big chunk of his heart. That perspective was more terrifying than any of the terrifying shit he had seen so far.  
He also suspected it would be incredibly uncomfortable for Derek, and he didn't want to scare the man away. Not when he still didn't understand what Derek saw in him.  
He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

"Lydia kissed me." Well damn, his mouth had decided to talk before consulting his brain.  
Again, Derek's face became cautiously blank but he couldn't keep the confusion from his eyes. "The girl I've been in love with since 3rd grade kissed me. Except I've not felt that for her for a while now. Except it didn't even come close to what just happened with you." 

Stiles stared at Derek, hoping his eyes would convey what he couldn't with words. It was strange to deliberately tap into that part of his mind and heart, and try to let it show instead of studiously ignoring it.  
There was a beat, and Derek had a look on his face that Stiles had seldom seen, and each time it had been tinged with sadness and worry. That look had been for Erica, for Cora. Suddenly, Derek seemed _vulnerable_ , and a protective urge rose in Stiles. It was completely stupid because hello, Derek was a freaking _werewolf_. But his heart, his _heart_ was human. Derek's heart was as fragile as Stiles' flesh and bone was. Each time Derek had opened his heart to someone, really bad things had happened. But still, he'd just made the first move, all the while thinking that Stiles only had a stupid crush on him. What it told Stiles about the strength of what Derek might be feeling for him was almost frightening. 

Stiles stepped forward, Derek's eyes roaming all over his face as if confronted with an unknown entity. Stiles took Derek's face in his hands, and being able to do this simple gesture was exhilarating. He didn't have to care about his heartbeat going crazy around Derek. This time, he hoped that the other man could _hear_ what he did to him. Stiles tilted his own head, baring his neck to Derek. He felt both in control and out of his depth.  
Derek let out a low growl and the sound went straight to Stiles' groin. Derek gently took Stiles' hands in his and he bent forward. Stiles had expected teeth or fangs on his neck, so the gentle, lingering kiss completely undid him. He knew his heart was in his eyes when Derek straightened to look at him, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Derek's jaw worked, he gulped and he nodded almost imperceptibly. His eyes were… Stiles had _never_ seen his eyes like this. 

Derek squeezed Stiles' hands. He looked so _unguarded_. Stiles didn't need words from him to realize that what he had thought was unrequited on his part was something shared. He didn't want yet to think about what this _something_ exactly was.  
It was just as well that he could _see_ it because Derek had never been a man of many words, never mind trying to express anything like _feelings_. When he did talk though, it was never in vain, whereas himself had verbal diarrhea more often than not. Maybe that 'opposites attract' thing was true, after all.  
The problem was that Derek was going to be out of his sight for some time. While it meant that he was going to miss him and his frowny eyebrows and his ridiculously chiseled jaw, it also more importantly meant that no one was going to be there to get him out of his guilt trips and funky moods. Cora would be with him, of course, but he had seen how they interacted. Derek was still her big brother even if they hadn't seen each other for years, so she didn't have any real influence on him. If she told him to stop his shit, he wouldn't listen. Not like he listened to Stiles, albeit grudgingly. It wasn't like Stiles managed to work miracles with Derek either, but at least he seemed to be able to make him stop and take notice. 

"Could you promise me something?" Stiles began, unsure of how to formulate his request.  
Derek was still holding his hands, tracing hypnotic patterns on the back of them with his thumbs. It was _very_ distracting but it also felt incredibly _good_ so he wasn't about to say anything. Was Derek aware he was doing this? For someone seemingly aloof, Derek could be very tactile, but Stiles had noticed it was only with people he considered Pack. Retrospectively, it should have been a clue where he was concerned. 

"I know you too well to agree to anything before knowing what kind of promise you want," Derek answered in a soft and mocking tone.  
"Why would you think that?!" Derek's only retort was a pointed look and a tilt of his eyebrows. Stiles couldn't bring himself to really care because hey, the Derek Touching was still going on. "Okay, okay. Just…" Aw man, why was it that he always lost his words when it was something crucial?  
"Stiles?" Derek's tone was laced with worry now, which was _wrong_. He also stepped closer with was _good_ because he'd been standing almost at arms' length, and now Stiles could feel his body heat again.  
"LookI'mnotaskingyoutocalleveryeveningandtellmeaboutyourdaybutcouldyoustayintouch?"  
Woah, breathe. He needed to breathe.  
Derek got even closer. "You want me to stay in touch while I'm gone, is that it?"  
Stiles nodded so energetically he almost got whiplash.  
"I'm not saying long phone conversations, just… text me, okay?"  
Derek nodded. "Okay."  
Stiles had expected some reluctance or at least being asked for a reason, so he was sure he was gaping. Derek's lips quirked up. Yep, he was probably gaping unattractively. Great.  
"I asked Scott to keep an eye on you."  
See? That was the thing with Derek: he didn't talk much but when he did, it had a bomb-dropping quality.  
"Whaaa? Are you serious? Why? When? What did he say?" Derek opened his mouth. "It's about me being fragile again, right?"  
Derek sighed, and the hand stroking stopped. "I asked him yesterday."  
"He didn't tell me anything." Derek threw him a 'no shit' look. "Look, you can't do this. You can't go behind my back and do this." He let go of Derek's hands.  
"I can and I did. Don't think I don't see that you're alone out there."  
"What the hell do you mean? I even got my father now that he knows about the creepy supernatural stuff."  
"You know you can't tell him _everything_. You know you _won't_ tell him everything to keep him from worrying for you. I've seen what you do: you help the others no matter the cost, you put on a brave face and you never complain when things get really serious. Especially when things get really serious." Stiles felt like the air had been knocked out of him. "I want Scott to have your back."  
"But Scott already has my back."  
"Not always. Scott, the others, they take you for granted. You're always there for them, taking risks, never asking for anything in return. They don't realize how precious you are." 

Stiles opened his mouth but nothing came out. He felt like he had slipped in a parallel universe where Derek Hale thought the world of him. He also felt somewhat stripped bare. There wouldn't be any lying, any dissimulating that would work on Derek because apparently he had the uncanny gift to see _right through him_.  
Derek must have sensed his brief unease because he gently cupped the side of his face. Stiles fought the desire to lean into the touch and lost.  
He too could see through Derek, and he couldn't let the man leave without him knowing it. He couldn't leave Derek under the impression that no one saw through his tough Alpha – well, former Alpha – act. He told himself that it was for Derek's good and not some kind of petty revenge for what Derek had just told him. He fully realized that a part – a very important part – of him was glad that Derek was the one person who _got_ him. He just hadn't reached the part where he was comfortable with that knowledge. He took the hand resting on his cheek in his. 

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing either." Okay, that had sounded a lot less ominous in his head. Why everything always sounded better in his head?! "You're trying to make amends for the mistakes you think you made. Don't go on a stupid self-sacrificing trip, okay? We _need_ you. We need you here, and alive. Alive is important. We're all better with you _alive_ , so don't even try to think otherwise."  
The 'we' might had been 'I' in his mind. Okay, scratch 'might'.  
He squeezed Derek's hand so strongly it might have been painful if he hadn't been a werewolf.  
If Derek had still been under the illusion that he felt a passing crush for him, he had just laid all his cards on the proverbial table.  
Derek's face did a thing that – again – Stiles had never seen before. It was wavering between surprise and something raw that left his eyes too bright.  
"Stiles, you…" He gulped several times before managing to resume. "I'll try."  
The fact that Derek hadn't even attempted to deny what Stiles had just stated about him spoke volumes. 'Try' wasn't enough in Stiles' book but it was better than a mute and moody Derek pretending everything was fine. 

An alarm went off, startling both of them. Derek threw an accusatory look at Stiles' pockets.  
Of all the times… Stiles fished his phone from his jeans' pocket, glanced at the screen before pocketing the phone again.  
"I'm going to have to go." He looked up at Derek. "Sorry."  
Derek was looking confused.  
"I've set up an alarm for all my dad's shifts, for when they end. I have 10 minutes after the alarm to get back home before he arrives. This way I don't get too many questions, especially when it's after dark like now."  
"Do you think he really believes you stayed home during his shift?"  
"Oh I'm sure he has doubts, but as long as he doesn't have _proof_ that I wasn't home, things will be okay."  
"Just… Don't get out alone at night when it's not safe. Please?"  
"Don't forget to text me. And stay alive. Please." 

They hadn't quite come full circle because the big difference what that now they _knew_. They both smiled at each other. The smiles were a bit watery but still, _smiles_.  
There was an awkward pause as it was time to say goodbye. God only knew for how long. Stiles somehow felt that Derek wasn't going to kiss him again. It seemed his lips were like mistletoe now.  
But there was something, something he had been thinking for a while, since he had started to see behind the tough guy mask Derek wore: ' _This guy really needs a hug_.' It was about time someone gave him one. The fact that it meant having Derek's awesome body flush against his was just a bonus. A big bonus. 

"I… I'm going to do something, just bear with me, okay?"  
More or less asking Derek's permission to hug him was weird since they had been _kissing_ only moments ago, but Derek was always the one _initiating_ contact with others. A very _few_ others.  
Derek barely had the time to raise his expressive eyebrows before Stiles engulfed him in his arms. At first all he could feel was stiffness, which he chose to attribute to Derek's surprise. Then the other man crushed him in his embrace, sagging into him, his face against his neck. Stiles stroked the back of Derek's head, wondering how long ago was the last time someone had hugged him for him to react like this. ' _I've got you_ ' was pressing so close behind his lips he could taste it, but he swallowed the words and settled for gently caressing Derek's nape. All his brainpower was focused on memorizing this moment for the months to come: how Derek felt in his arms, the sound of his breathing, the way he smelt, the tickling of his eyelashes on the skin of his neck. Then he felt Derek ever so slightly press his nose against that skin, breathing in as if Eau de Stiles was a drug. He smiled. His lips may have been a no-no zone, but his neck was apparently fair game. 

"Just… take care, okay?" His voice was muffled because his mouth was in Derek's hair.  
He felt more than he heard Derek's answer on his skin. "You too."  
____________________________________ 

He was wasting time as well as fuel but he couldn't bring himself to leave immediately. Starting the jeep had been easy, but now… He could still feel the phantom touch of Derek's stubble on his neck, of his hands clutching his back.  
Disentangling himself from the embrace had been difficult, and judging by Derek's face, it hadn't been easy for him either. No more words had been exchanged, just a last long look before turning on his heels and bounding down the stairs.  
He had expected some sarcastic comment from Cora but she had _smiled_ at him instead, and it had been scarier than seeing her all wolfed out with bared fangs.  
He had opened his mouth, not really knowing what was going to come out, but Cora had beaten him to it.  
"I'll keep an eye on him."  
Stiles had just nodded. 

He looked at the time on his phone. He should have been home five minutes ago. His father was going to kill him.  
_____________________________________ 

It was a good thing that he knew the way from the loft to his house by heart because all kinds of things had kept going through his mind on the drive back, so he hadn't been really focused on the road. 

To say he had been relieved when he hadn't seen his dad's car in the driveway upon arriving would be an understatement.  
He had literally run to his room and quickly set up the Stiles-is-doing-his-homework scene from the movie classic _Stiles Is a Big Liar Who Lies_. 

He tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes. He wanted to have a shower but even with his plain human nose, he could still smell Derek on him and he didn't want to lose the scent yet. He could only imagine how it was for Derek. He was probably drenched in Eau de Stiles. He smiled what was most probably a very dopey smile.  
That was when he simultaneously heard the front door and his phone's text alert. 

"I'm home, son!"  
"I'm upstairs! Your dinner's in the fridge!" 

Shit. He was going to have to pretend that he had already eaten since he was supposed to have been home all evening. Well, he could still sneak out to the kitchen later, when his dad was asleep. Meanwhile, he was sure he had some snacks left somewhere in his room. 

He looked at his phone's screen. His heart leapt. The text was from 'Grumpy'. He chuckled, briefly wondering if he should change Derek's contact name.  
Nah.  
 _ **Just checking if this works.**_  
The warmth that spread through his chest shouldn't have been allowed. He quickly typed his answer.  
 _ **It does. It will.**_


End file.
